Aftermath
by CHAILYN
Summary: Spoilers for 6.01: Exile on Main St.  you're never going to settle your scores.  Chapter 5 now up. Only One You Get.
1. Aftermath

**Aftermath**

_**Summary: Spoilers for 6.01: Exile on Main St. He did what Sam wanted, but nothing felt like it was making sense. **_

_**Note: Right, yes...I still don't own Supernatural. I've been working on it for the last five years in case you haven't noticed, and apparently I've failed miserably. Song lyrics belong to Jared Leto and 30STM and I'm not trying to take credit for those either. They're pretty, and sparkly and I love them, but I don't own them. **_

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_And I fell apart_

_But got back up again _

_-Alibi; 30 Seconds To Mars_

"Dean?" Lisa ran her fingers across his chest, no longer shocked at this point in their relationship when she found scars on his body that she didn't remember. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean almost laughed; he'd been hearing that a lot lately. Ever since Sam came back, since he found out that his brother had been alive all year; that all the time he'd spent praying, screaming, researching and exhausting his liver…Sam had been walking the same ground as him. For a whole year, Sam had been alive and he was the only one who didn't know.

He'd never _been_ okay. No, he wasn't okay.

"Yeah," Dean nodded his head, burying his face in the comfort between her shoulder and neck. "I'm fine."

_Just peachy_.

Lisa sat up, looking down at him. He was gorgeous, and good to her, and he treated her son like he was his-Dean Winchester was all she'd ever wanted, and for every single flaw he might have, it didn't change anything. The same things that Dean thought were flaws, were what made her feel safe. She knew these strange, terrible things existed in the world, and she also knew that Dean would always protect them from all of them.

"You don't need to pretend with me, Dean. You never need to pretend with me."

Dean laid back, turning and resting his head on the pillow. All those years of motels; he'd forgotten how good a real bed felt. Crisp sheets, clean pillows, thick walls, lush carpets and an alarm clock that woke him up playing exactly the song that it was programmed to play. No more crap coming across the radio. That was different too. Thursdays were always Metallica. He still hated Thursdays.

"I'm not pretending." Dean said, defending himself. It killed him sometimes the way she seemed to see right through him. He wondered sometimes how she could know him so well and still want anything to do with him. "I'm great."

He was damn lucky that she would even accept a pathetic mess like him. He was hardly able to keep himself together some days.

"The nightmares are back." Lisa said, "You know that, right? I tried to wake you up yesterday, when you were taking a nap on the couch."

"Sorry." Dean said. He thought they didn't happen as often anymore. In a way, just knowing that Sam was alive was a burden that was lifted off of his chest.

He was living the life that Sam had spent twenty-two years wanting, and his brother was living the life that their dad wanted. None of it made any sense to him at all. Knowing that Sam was alive though and hunting-_hunting without him_-sometimes that scared him to death.

"You were yelling for Sam-Sammy." Lisa corrected herself, her eyes softening as she looked down at him. "You're worried about him, aren't you?"

"Sam's-" Dean's voice caught in his throat. "Sam can take care of himself."

He remembered the dream she was talking about. God, did he ever. He remembered clawing at the ground, trying to dig his brother out…

Dean bit his lip, the image causing the rift in his chest to implode on him. How? How could Sam dig himself out and never let him know? In so may ways, this had been one of the worst years of his life.

"Dean…" Lisa sighed, "I'm sorry. I promised myself, I wouldn't ever press you, I'm just worried."

"You can ask me anything, Lisa. Anything." _I just don't know if I'll tell you the truth. _It wasn't because he didn't trust her, he would put his life in her hands-there was only so much that she should have to be burdened with.

"You told me you've always hunted with him, Dean. God knows, I'm glad you're here with us…" Lisa rested a hand on Dean's face. "You don't need to close yourself off from all of that. It just feels like you're not comfortable sometimes. Like you feel like you need to keep yourself-that part of yourself separate. There's no part of you that I don't love. There's nothing about you that Ben doesn't not love. You're a hero."

God, he didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve either one of them.

"I heard you on the phone with Sam last week." Lisa said. "You miss him, don't you?"

"He's my brother." Dean said simply, "No matter how much, or how often he pisses me off…I'm always going to love him. No matter how much changes…"

"You don't have to keep him secret." Lisa didn't know any better way to say it than to just come out and say it. "Your brother is welcome here any time-any time you want him here."

"Don't you think it would be potentially a little confusing for Ben to see my dead brother in his house?"

He wondered sometimes, how many times could they keep coming back from the dead and still be themselves. How human were they?

"Our house." Lisa corrected. "And Ben understands, Dean. You know, maybe if Sam gets away from it a little bit…it would be good for him. Maybe Sam would stop hunting too."

Was it so wrong that the thought of that made him happy? Was it so wrong that he considered how good it would be to wake up every day and not wonder if his brother was alive?

Hadn't they done enough? They'd lost everything they'd have cared about a few times over. Wasn't it their turn to get something?

Was it wrong that for once, that they deserved to really live?

* * *

As much as he loved Lisa, there were things about himself that he couldn't ever tell her.

There were things about himself that he didn't even want to face for himself.

_I can't keep letting him down; I can't keep watching Sam die. _He'd sworn to always protect his little brother, but he didn't know how to do it anymore. It was so big, everything had gotten so big, and he didn't know how to do it. _I can't keep failing him._

No matter what happened, they were still brothers; and he would lay down his life for Sam. He spent the entire year trying to do anything he could to dig his brother out of the cage and yeah, he was pissed, he was pissed to hell that Sam had been up here for a whole damn year hunting with their so-called 'family' and he didn't know a damn thing about it.

Some days he had missed his brother so bad, he felt so guilty for not protecting him, that he wished to God the earth would swallow him up and he'd die too. Every time he'd tried to save Sam, he'd failed.

He couldn't fail again. He couldn't live with himself letting his brother's life slip through his fingers again.

_I was supposed to always protect you, but I haven't been able to, not once. Not once when it really counted.

* * *

_

"Sam?" Lisa wiped her hands on the dishtowel, almost feeling guilty when she answered Dean's cell. "No, no this is Dean's cell."

When she saw the caller ID though, and Dean wasn't around, she couldn't help herself. He wouldn't want to miss a call from his brother. She could see in Dean's eyes, every day, he was worried about Sam.

"He's out back." Lisa told him, "How are you, Sam?"

She moved around the kitchen slowly, killing time and waiting for a response. Sam seemed like a really nice guy. She knew that she didn't know him, really the things she knew about Dean's brother she could count on one hand.

"Good," Sam told her, "Busy. I've been busy."

_One. She knew that Sam had gone to Stanford._

"The world's in good hands then." Lisa told him. "You're looking out for yourself, right?"

"Everyday." Sam said, "Dean taught me well-you can tell him that."

_Two. Dean basically raised him. _

"You bet I will." Lisa bit her lip, and decided to stop procrastinating. "Okay, I'm heading out to the yard to look for him now. I think he's playing some soccer with Ben."

"You know, this really isn't important." Sam told her. "If he's busy-"

_Three. He was as gorgeous as his brother._

"No," Lisa said quickly, looking in the yard for Dean and Ben. "He's…Dean!"

Lisa waved him over from the back of the porch, seeing him catch the ball that Ben kicked in his direction.

_In essence, nothing. She knew nothing about Sam Winchester-oh, wait, and that he came back from the dead. That was about it._

"Your phone!" She held it away from her ear and pointed.

"It was nice talking to you, Sam." Lisa said, as Dean jogged over. "I hope you don't make yourself a stranger. You're welcome here anytime."

Dean was standing in front of her now as she listened to Sam talk about how nice her that was to say.

"I mean it." Lisa handed the phone over to Dean. "It's your brother."

"Sam?"

Lisa listened to the beginning strains of the conversation as she walked over to where Ben was.

"Really? You okay?"

"So," She asked her son, watching him catch the soccer ball in his hands and throw it into the air. "Do you still play with your mom, or have I been totally replaced?"

Ben dropped the ball on the ground and grinned, kicking it toward her.

"Not _totally_."

* * *

_Sorry if this was a little disjointed...I haven't had as much time to edit as I'd like, and I've got an ornery paper calling my name, and its 2:20 am. _


	2. The Strings That Tie

**The Strings That Tie**

_Note: I still own absolutely nothing. Thanks so much to everyone who left all those shiny reviews and alerts, and favorited this story. It had been debatable as to whether or not I wanted to delve into it and make a full-length story…and apparently the full length story won out. I'm going to get to thinking everyone via PM by tomorrow, and I just wanted to say thanks again for reading, and hope you all enjoy._

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_**We cannot destroy kindred: our chains stretch a little sometimes, but they never break.**_  
_**- Marquise de Sévigné**_

_Three months later_

_Cicero, Indiana_

"I'm passing through town." Sam told his brother, feeling like an ass for even saying it. He made his choice in the beginning to let Dean live his life, but his brother made him promise.

"_I thought you were dead Sam, for a year…I thought you were rotting in some pit of hell."_

"_I wasn't trying to hurt you, Dean. I was just trying to help you live…help you live this life you've got. It's everything you've ever wanted."_

"_You said that before." Dean retorted, feeling the anger he'd first felt start to simmer away, because Sam was alive. Regardless of everything else, his little brother was okay. "You think that my life is apple pie, you think I was happy with you dead?"_

"_No," Dean shook his head, "No way. I know you better than that. You're not that stupid."_

"_What are you saying?" Sam asked, "What do you want, Dean? I wish I never made this harder for you, I do. But I wasn't going to let you die."_

"_We're a little well past what I want." Dean scrubbed his hand over his face, frustrated to all hell. "Stop hunting, take a break."_

"_No." It was Sam's turn to disagree. "No, I'm not going to do that. This is my life, Dean."_

_It wrenched at something inside of him to hear his brother talk like that. Sam was never supposed to feel like that. When had his little brother taken the one-eighty._

_I'm sorry I ever went to Stanford and got you. I'm sorry I ever intervened in your life when it was happy._

"_You can't just disappear." Dean said. _

_We're at the edge, and I want to pull you back._

"_You have to stay in touch, man." Dean said, "You can't just keep running off and hunting, and doing what you want to do and leave me in the cold. I gotta know that you're okay."_

"_I am. I'm okay." Sam told him._

"_Keep it that way." Dean told him, clapping him on the shoulder. "I don't keep hearing from you, and I'll come looking for you, I swear to God."_

"_Okay." Sam said, nodding his head. "I will."_

Besides, Bobby threatened to tell Dean himself if he didn't do it. Apparently, mind your own damn business didn't mean anything to him.

"I just wanted to let you know, in case…"

"How long?" Dean asked Sam, refusing to give his brother a chance to weasel out with the first excuse he made up to not see him.

"A few days, maybe." Sam told him, leaving out the irrelevant details. The rest of it was things that Dean didn't have to bother himself with anymore.

It was what Dean deserved; he'd earned the right to have a family now.

"Everyone's splitting up for a little while." Sam laughed, hearing the surprise in Dean's silence. He got the feeling Dean didn't expect that. "Gwen's going to Miami, she's got a boyfriend."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean couldn't quite picture their pasty-skinned cousin, tanning on the beaches of Miami. Given, he didn't know her, but she wasn't exactly Snooki. "I thought she was allergic to the sun."

"You're telling me. But everyone's taking the time…"

"And you'd come see me instead of hightailing it off to some exotic place to bang…" Dean realized what he was saying, glancing around to make sure Lisa wasn't around; or Ben for that matter…yeah, and he was a great example for an innocent pre-teen kid. "Bang some hot chick?"

It was awkward talking to his brother again. Not seeing each other every day, and living in the same world was strange.

Sam chuckled, "No, I'm good."

"Hey…" Dean laughed, remembering the cute bartender with the persistent attitude. "I know this super cute bartender. And really…_cute_. Tiny and with a great little-"

"Dean?"

Dean choked on his own words, hearing Sam laugh hysterically on the other end of the line.

"In here." Dean managed, waving from where he stood in the kitchen, and feeling like he'd been caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

_I am so innocent_, he thought.

"Oh, hey sweetie." Lisa smiled brightly at him.

Dean was happy, even with just a few phone calls a week, Sam could tell. Every time he talked to his brother, he could hear that inherent happiness in Dean's tone. Satisfaction.

"It's Sam." Dean told her. "He's passing through town soon, and it looks like he's gonna be here for a few days."

He knew that Lisa wouldn't put up any objections, but he didn't expect her to look delighted.

"That's great!" Lisa said enthusiastically, and gestured toward the phone, biting her lip. "Can I say hi?"

"Sure…" Dean could hardly hold back from bursting into laughter. God, he was a lucky bastard, no woman in the world was as well adjusted to such insanity as she was.

"Lisa wants to say hi." He told Sam.

"Hey there, Sam." Lisa fell into a quick style of chatter that Den still found funny. "It's so great that you're going to be coming through here."

"Yeah," Sam told her. "How are you, Lisa?"

"I am just wonderful. Are you doing well?" Lisa moved through things rapidly, and Sam wondered if Dean kept up with her as well as Dean gave the impression he did. "When do you think you'll be here? I'll make up the guest room for you and-you know, we could have a party. We could definitely do that. Are you going to be alone?"

Dean contemplated whether after all they had survived if it would really be fair for him to die in a fit from trying to hold back his laughter. Party? A party? What was she going to do, play her own version of The Bachelor with all her single friends? There were a few winners, and a pretty redhead he could picture Sam with…or the blonde dance instructor. Dancers were flexible; Sammy would have fun with her.

"You don't have to do any of that." Sam told her, "Keeping up after Dean is enough work. There's a motel-"

"No." Lisa said firmly, "That's just not going to happen, Sam. I'm sorry, but we're practically family-you have to stay here."

Lisa paused for a second. "Please now, it will be painless…and I make a really great apple pie. Has Dean told you about my apple pie?"

Sam laughed, unable to hold it back. "Apple pie, huh? No wonder Dean loves you."

"So it's settled then." Lisa told him with a tone of victory. "I'll set up the guest room for you, and make the tastiest apple pie that you've ever tasted."

"Thanks, really, Lisa." She made it seem so easy. He could almost convince himself that he wasn't actually infringing on Dean's happy life. Almost.

"When can we expect you?" She asked, "This week?"

"Monday." Sam told her. "I'll call when I'm near."

"Fantastic." Lisa said, "I'd better give Dean back the phone, I've got to run. We can't wait to see you, Sam."

Dean took the phone from her, unable to figure how she made it seem so effortless.

"She's excited." Dean said once Lisa was out of earshot. "I think she wants to introduce you to all her single friends until she hits the mark. Women are into that kind of thing, you know?"

The blonde, the blonde would be perfect for Sam. She was tall too, so there wouldn't be any of that weird height awkwardness.

Sam laughed softly; he wasn't so far removed from it that he forgot. Jess had liked doing that to; apparently because she was so happy…she wanted all her best friends to be happy too.

"Listen, I'd better go." Sam said, "I've got some loose ends to tie up."

Of course he did, Dean thought. There was always something…it never ended. And he never stopped worrying.

"Take care of yourself, Sammy. Be safe." Dean told him.

"Always am." Sam told him. "I'll call you…Monday, when I'm near there."

"Don't take too long," Dean warned him, "Once that pie is out of the oven, it's open season."

Sam laughed, "Right, right…talk to you later, man."

"Later, Sammy."

He stopped asking Sam about the jobs only because Sam wouldn't tell him_. It's the way its gotta be_, Sam told him, _you can't be out and thinking about it every second. Don't worry about me, Dean. You taught me better than that._

Dean spent part of most of his days convincing himself of that. He and John taught Sam the best; nothing else mattered because he was the best damn hunter out there.

**. . . **

_Kalamazoo, Michigan _

"Apple pie." Sam laughed to himself, shaking his head as he rifled through his trunk and pulled out the flashlight. It was always apple pie with his brother.

And it was nice to hunt without Gwen. He didn't know how it was she always ended up with him-he knew it wasn't because his features were delicate. She was good enough to tell him that Dean's features were better.

…_except for the ass, Gwen told him, you do have a nicer ass._

He put a lot of effort into deciding to not notice that she'd bothered to look.

Sam tucked his .45 into the waistband of his pants, and grabbed the salt gun from the top of the pile. His trunk was really turning into the Unabomber times two. John would be proud. Dean would probably gripe that they weren't concealed as well as he did it.

Well, of course not, he wasn't as good as Dean. Close, but not quite.

He filed through the facts. Ingrid Michaelson's daughter had been haunted by her mother ever since they buried the empty casket. With a little bit of illegal research (courtesy of the Wyoming County Police Department) he had hacked into their network and discovered a whole bunch of strange facts that the newspapers had never reported-beginning with a jaunt she'd taken four years ago, disappearing for fourteen months only to appear with what Sam could only define as selective amnesia as she showed up in an ER in San Francisco with an unenviable list of injuries-including two healed broken legs, and a bullet lodged in her thigh.

For the last four years, Ingrid had been undergoing twice weekly psychotherapy sessions, and saw her daughter on the weekends. She was depressed, erratic, and insisted that there was another person that was living inside of her. Her doctor had diagnosed her with split personality disorder, bipolar disorder, and her medicine cabinet reflected her sordid psychiatric history. Ingrid's parents had custody of her twelve year old daughter, and had custody of her since a few weeks after Ingrid disappeared. Her daughter Mindy had been a completely normal borderline average student with a penchant for ballet, and there was nothing supernatural about her.

Then Ingrid disappeared again. Sam wouldn't have given this case much thought though, if her daughter didn't repeatedly go into fits screaming to anyone and everyone that her mother was trying to kill her and that they needed to burn her body. The most recent outburst was in the middle of _Swan Lake_.

It piqued his attention. Especially when the little girl told him that her mother's body was inside Warehouse 19, off Middlesex Avenue, and that she knew because her grandpa had told Uncle James so.

Yeah, that was more than enough cause to give it a look.

Middlesex…Sam couldn't help but think with amusement of the kicks that his brother would get out of something like that.

"_Middle…sex," Dean would smirk, "is that even legal?"_

_ "Dude." Sam would shake his head, rolling his eyes. "Are you ever going to grow up?"_

_ "Sex." Dean would snicker. "There's a school around the corner."_

_ He would only be able to sigh, "It's not like that Dean. Not everyone perverts everything like you do."_

_ Dean would snort. "Sex…Sammy, that's not perverting anything. That's just…sex."_

_ "Can you stop saying 'sex', please?"_

_ "Sex." Dean would be grinning wildly. "Sex, Sex, Sex…sex is good."_

_ "Jesus Christ."_

It was the things he bitched about the most, the things that irritated him the most about his brother that he'd missed so unbelievable much.

He even missed listening to Metallica, enough that he added the music to his iPod. God that would piss off Dean.

Sam grinned; some things couldn't change, after all. They were going to be pissing each other off for all the rest of their lives. Which, hopefully was going to be for a lot longer, still.

**. . .**

_Note: The next chapter should *crosses fingers* be done by tomorrow night, but I do have a pesky english paper to write, and my little sister's ninth birthday is tomorrow, so we'll just play it by ear. No promises, but an effort shall be made._


	3. Everything Keeps Moving On

**Everything Keeps Moving On **

_Note: The more I delve into Lisa and Ben and the family dynamic with Dean, the more I like them. Because of that, what I intended to be about a 500 word scene sort of morphed into its own chapter, and try as I may, I can't quite bring myself to cut it down. Thanks again to everyone for keeping up with the story and reviewing, alerting, etc. I didn't actually think that my muse would be so insipired, but apparently knowing that I have to still finish my lit paper by tuesday...well hell, that just does it for the muses that be. Personally, I think they have a sick sense of humor._

* * *

_Maybe you can't stop tomorrow, from stealing all my time_

_I am here still waiting, though I still have my doubts_

_I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out_

_-Lifehouse; Broken_

"But mom," Ben pled with her, "It's not fair. Trevor and Robbie are both going. Their moms are letting them."

"Well, that's just fine for them," Lisa told him. "I guess it's a good thing for them that I'm not their mom. You're not going, Ben-and that's final."

"It's not _fair_!" Ben tossed his backpack on the ground and dropped into the kitchen chair. "I really want to go."

"And I'd really like to let you go, Ben." Lisa felt bad denying Ben this trip that he wanted to take so badly, but it made her nervous. Three days in the wilderness with a couple dozen boys and a few scout leaders didn't inspire confidence in her. That wasn't even including her thoughts about what else could really be out there, so far from civilization.

She heard the door open and close. Dean. Wasn't his timing just impeccable? Before she could even warn Ben to not try and double play them, he was off on a run down through the living room into the hallway.

"Hey Ben," Dean was unlacing his boots and kicking them under the bench in the hall. "How was school?"

"Dean, you need to talk some sense into my mom. Tell her to let me go camping. Please. I'm going to be the joke of the seventh grade." Ben begged.

"Camping, huh?" Dean looked past Ben's head at Lisa.

"Boy scout trip." Lisa said, un-amused with Ben doing this again. She told him that just because Dean was here, it didn't mean he could try and play them against one another. "Which he has known for a month he will not be attending."

"But I have to go!" Ben looked from Dean to his mom. "Dean, everyone is going to think I'm completely pathetic if I don't go. I don't want everyone to think I'm a pussy."

"Hey!" Lisa objected, "What, what is it with that? Don't use that word."

"Your mom's right." Dean clapped him on the back, "Don't use that word. It's…disrespectful…and inappropriate. Why don't you go and start your homework…and your mom and I can…talk about it."

"Yes!" Ben fist pumped the air.

"Don't get too excited." Lisa told her son. "Dean's right. Go do your homework."

"Sure." Ben ran into the kitchen, and they could hear his feet pounding up the stairs.

"So…" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Camping?"

**. . .**

"Don't look at me like that." Lisa felt patronized as Dean slowly drank his afternoon cup of coffee (one of many), listening to her explain the situation. "I'm not crazy."

Dean almost laughed out loud, no kidding.

"Hey, I'm the last person you need to convince." Dean settled back in the chair, trying to find the right words to comfort her.

He wasn't going to promise her that there was nothing out there in the woods, or that there was nothing to be afraid of. Hell, he didn't know that for sure. Maybe there was something out there to be afraid of.

"Right," Lisa said quietly, "I mean…I know. I'm just…"

Lisa sighed, "I'm just trying to be a good mom. I don't want him to be miserable, but I can't just up and let him do something when I know what's out there."

Well, maybe she didn't know the specifics, but she didn't want to risk her son's safety on 'pretty sure.'

"Well," Dean shook his head, "In that department, you don't need to worry, Lisa. You're an amazing mom."

Lisa's cheeks flushed pink. "Thank you, Dean."

"And maybe we can work out something with this, some sort of compromise." Dean suggested, "I mean, he's seems excited about this thing…"

"Like what?" Lisa asked.

"Like…I could go." Dean offered. "And I wouldn't just be packing peanut M&M's. I wouldn't let anything happen to him, you wouldn't need to worry, and Ben would be happy."

Lisa was quiet for a second, and then she looked up at him with a slight smile on her face.

"There's only one flaw in your brilliant plan."

"Huh?" Dean had been fairly sure his plan was just about golden. Had Lisa become she of little faith in his exemplary hunting skills? "Is it a gun thing?"

He knew moms were like that. They definitely had a thing about guns.

Lisa shook her head.

"That's three long days. I'm going to miss you."

Dean reached across the table, twining her fingers with his and squeezing her hand. He loved her, he really did.

"You better go give Ben the good news." Lisa told him, "Besides, you're the one who has to lie on the hard ground, fending off bugs and mosquitoes and drinking instant coffee."

Dean made a face, "God, I hate instant coffee."

Lisa laughed as Dean got up from the table and let go of his hand.

"I'm going to order in." Lisa said, "Do you feel more like Thai food, or pizza-or we could get something from that little organics place that opened up. Carrie told me the hummus there is delicious."

Dean waited until he turned his back toward her to gag. He would do almost anything in the world for her, but eating mashed up beans and whatever else was not on the list.

"Pizza, pizza sounds good." Dean said. "Georgio's has this great triple steak pizza; I had it for lunch…its great."

Lisa laughed, "We need to talk about your eating habits, babe. How about half-pepperoni and half-mushrooms?"

"Sounds good." Dean turned back to look at her with a playful grin. "Wings?"

Lisa shook her head, he was so damn lucky. She eats a couple slices of pizza and gains a pound, Dean eats a large triple steak, double cheese pizza and gains nothing-generally, only looking for dessert.

"Half-hot, half-medium." Lisa nodded her head. "Anything else? I'm ordering a salad."

"No thanks." Dean told her with an innocent look. "I don't want to get too full."

"I'll get it family sized, we can all eat it." Lisa said, "Don't make that face. It's good for you."

Yeah, but it was green. He had a long standing rule about eating things that were green…mostly…don't.

**. . .**

Dean knocked on Ben's bedroom door, amused as always to see the Led Zeppelin poster he'd bought Ben for his birthday (accompanied by the CD) hanging prominently and the strains of Metallica's _Disposable Heroes_ coming from the room.

"Ben?" He knocked on the door. "Got a minute?"

"Come in!" He heard Ben holler over the music.

Ben turned the music down until it was background noise. "It helps me to concentrate, for studying." He explained.

Man, no one could say that the kid didn't have taste.

"Especially for studying geography." Ben made a face.

"Yeah, I hated geography too." Dean told him, but then again, he hated every subject. Well, except for the time sophomore year when he ended up in a home ec. class with all girls…that wasn't too bad. And he didn't totally hate history. "Whenever I was going somewhere with my brother, I always made him read the map."

Dean laughed, wondering if Sam knew that was why he preferred to drive. Maps were not his friend. He would have considered one of those GPS things if he didn't think it would have totally douched up his car.

"Your brother's coming to stay here for awhile," Ben asked, "Right?"

Dean nodded his head. "Yeah, you'll like him. Sam's a little…quiet."

"He was dead, too…wasn't he?" Ben set his homework to the side. "How'd that happen, Dean?"

Well, he figured that sort of question would have to come along sooner or later.

"I wished I could answer that for you. But I don't really know. Maybe he and I are just really lucky."

All his other theories didn't exactly seem child appropriate.

"Maybe it was like a gift." Ben told him, "You and Sam save the world, and you get a free pass."

Well, Dean couldn't say he didn't like the theory. Those sorts of things just weren't a reality in his world. If they really wanted to give him a free pass, God or whoever…they could talk Sam out of hunting. He didn't like Sam hunting, out there, without him.

"I like the theory." Dean told him, "But hey, I came up here for a reason you know."

Ben bit his lower lip. "Camping? Did you talk her into it? Can I go?"

"Well, I don't think anyone could actually talk your mom into anything. She's got an iron will." Dean said, "But she's going to let you go on one condition."

"Anything!" Ben jumped off the bed in excitement, "Dean, I swear, I'll do anything. I'll keep my bedroom spotless, I'll do more chores, and I won't get in any trouble at all."

"That's awesome. Keep those things in mind." Dean said with a smirk. "The condition is, I'm gonna be coming along as a chaperone to keep your butt out of trouble, that okay?"

"It's awesome!" Ben's eyes lit up. "That is so cool-it will be epic! We can fish there, you know. You always said we could go fishing."

"Sounds like a plan." Dean told him. "Make sure you pack the poles."

Ben nodded his head. "Right, I won't forget."

Dean hopped up from the bed. "Well, we both better get ready. The trip is in only a couple more days."

"Uh huh." Ben said. "We leave Thursday afternoon."

"You better wrap that homework up, and get packing." Dean told him, leaning over to ruffle his hair the same way he did to Sam.

"By the way, Dean," Ben said as Dean lingered at his door, his hands on the knob. "You should know…candy is contraband."

"Good thing then," Dean grinned, "That I love to break a rule."

Ben laughed.

"Thanks Dean."

"No problem, kiddo." Dean closed the door behind him.

Maybe his life wasn't perfect, even now, but it didn't completely suck.

. . .

_Hey Sam, _

Dean didn't like leaving and just dropping a voicemail, but if Sam was working a job, it was the best he could do.

_I'm leaving tomorrow to take Ben on a camping trip. I know, I know, me, chaperoning a camping trip. Laugh it up, Sammy. I'm not going to be getting any service, and we won't be back until Monday afternoon so just call the house when you're in the area. Lisa will be there. 741-598-3476. If you get the chance, give me a call and let me know how you're doing._

Dean sighed, he didn't exactly trust the new family unit that Sam seemed to pick up, but at least he wasn't alone.

**. . . **

_I know, no Sammy. But I promise some Sammy intensiveness in the next chapter._


	4. The Apple Doesn't Fall Far

**The Apple Doesn't Fall Far **

_Note: Once again, I swear that I'm going to get to thanking everyone personally for all the lovely reviews but between busting out these daily chapters and staying on the level with my coursework this week, I'm just treading water. I picked a bad, bad week to get so involved in a story. All that said, I'm hoping to get the next chapter up Thursday, and maybe one more on Friday…and *crosses fingers* finish it up by Monday. That is all dependent on how well my Eliot paper is coming along…for some reason it doesn't seem to flow like fanfic ;)_

_&& as always, I own nothing. If I did I would not be bitching about needing to write a paper on T.S. Eliot, I would find something much more constructive to do with my time._

_**

* * *

**_

_Help, I'm alive_

_My heart keeps beating like a hammer_

_Hard to be soft, tough to be tender_

_-Metric; Help, I'm Alive_

Mindy Michaelson was pretty far from crazy; she wasn't even 'sniffing the glue' crazy.

As a matter of fact; Sam would say that the girl was pretty spot on.

It wasn't hard to conclude; once he was hardly through giving the warehouse a second go and Ingrid Michaelson's body fell out of an overhead cabinet and just missed giving him a concussion.

Little Mindy was right on the mark, and would probably be in therapy for the rest of her life.

**. . . **

When Sam started thinking about how nice it would be to go back to the old days of salt, burn, and repeat…this was not what he had been thinking of, strangely enough.

As it turned out, Ingrid Michaelson really wasn't the core problem here in Lansing, Michigan.

Well, of course she wasn't. Why the hell would things turn out the way he expected?

After his first run-through of warehouse 19 unearthed nothing short of, potentially, a dormant case of asthma, Sam was ready to chalk it up to nothing and put the town in his rearview mirror.

But something didn't sit right. He knew his cousins would accuse him of over-sentimentality but this was still bothering him, and he had a few days to kill until Monday, so he looked into the Michaelsons a little bit more.

It turned out, according to court records that Grandpa Michaelson had been trying to lock up his daughter at the Ivory Rose Facility for the mentally unbalanced ever since she came back from her jaunt raving about monsters, and demons, and the end of the world.

It certainly gave him the motive to kill his only daughter, especially considering she'd just filed to regain custody of her daughter.

Grandpa Michaelson was also the lead foreman at warehouse 19 for forty years. So Sam figured; if anyone would know where to hide a dead body so it wouldn't ever be found, it would probably be him.

It didn't hurt then, to give it another go. He'd rather be sure he was hunting nothing than to disappear and leave Ingrid to keep tormenting her daughter.

Besides, he had time. He had all the time in the world, and nowhere to be.

**. . .**

"Dean," Ben asked as they were packing the pickup for their trip. "Have you ever been camping?"

Dean kept loading up the truck, mentally ticking off the things he'd put on the flatbed. They'd gotten through the tents, the one that Ben and his friends were going to share, and his tent, because he'd be damned if he was going to sit in troop leader George Daniel's tent listening to him talk about earning to newbie a badge.

It was too great a temptation to tell him right where he could stick that badge.

"Uh…yeah." Dean told him, "Sort of."

"How do you 'sort of' camp?" Ben asked with a raised eyebrow. "Isn't that sort of a concrete thing?"

"My dad used to take me and Sammy into the woods to hunt or for target practice when we were kids." Dean explained.

Lisa wanted him to be honest, and God knew he tried, but there was a line between what he'd share with them, and where he'd put a bullet in his head before giving them that sort of nightmare.

"Cool." Ben said, quieting down long enough for Dean to contemplate if he'd look like a total douche if he took an air mattress.

He sighed, yeah. Jesus, he hated the outdoors. Didn't civilization exist for a reason-so people didn't have to trek for miles and sleep in the dirt? Or maybe he was going soft…No, no freakin' way.

"Can we go hunting?" Ben asked with a hopeful look on his face.

"Not a chance in hell." Dean told him. "You don't want to kill anything, Ben."

"Well, yeah…maybe not a rabbit. But what about something like…like those things you killed when I was a kid?"

"Especially not those kind of things." Dean tossed an extra sleeping bag into the back. "There's nothing fun about it."

He felt bad, hearing the coarse tone in his voice as he looked back at Ben who looked like he felt guilty.

"But if your mom's okay with it," Dean told him, "I'll take you to one of those target places. You should know how to shoot a gun, and how to be safe around one."

"Seriously?" Ben looked excited. "Awesome!"

Dean clapped him on the back. "Go wash up for lunch. Tell your mom I'll be in…just give me a second."

"Okay." Ben said, heading up the walk to the house.

Dean waited until he was gone, and ducked into the garage.

Unlocking the truck of the Impala he didn't feel the same spark of love he used to. He almost resented it for sitting in the garage, feeling like it was disparaging him. Dean tried driving it once, only once after Sam died…

Dean had felt like crashing it into a brick wall, and decided that it was best kept in the garage. He was going to rent a storage place, not even bothering to keep it close and Lisa talked him out of it.

_Take the garage_, she said, _it's all yours. Besides, Dean, you love that car. Don't you?_

_In another lifetime._

He dug out a few supplies; His old .45, his sawed off, bullets, consecrated iron rounds, and a flare gun. Bringing a blow torch seemed like a little bit much, and he'd done a little research about the area, and hadn't been able to come up with anything the least bit supernatural.

Besides, lighting rarely struck twice in the same place.

**. . . **

Sam was about to torch Ingrid Michaelson's decaying corpse when it hit upon him just what was bothering him. He was about to usher her off to the afterlife, and Ingrid wasn't even making a peep.

This was too easy.

He doused her with lighter fluid and covered the body in salt. "Rest in peace, huh?"

"Thanks Sam."

Sam turned on his heels, his hand circling around his .45 and coming face to face with little Mindy.

"I really didn't know what I was going to do with the body." She smiled a simpering little smirk that sent a cold chill through his body.

"Mindy?"

Mindy was dressed in her pale pink ballet slippers and a matching tutu. It seemed like a bad horror movie.

"Not anymore." She singsonged. "You know, I heard that you were smarter than this Sam Winchester. You're supposed to be the baddest of the big bads…you and your bobbsey twin brother, that is."

"I guess you got your facts wrong." In one swift move, Sam pulled out his salt gun and pointed it at Mindy.

A little girl, why did it have to be a little girl?

He cocked the gun, ready to shoot her. It was only salt, he reasoned, it wouldn't kill her.

"This is going to hurt you." Mindy said, "A lot more than it's going to hurt me."

Mindy smirked, "Come and get me, Sam."

He shot at her, and she ducked it.

"You just aren't the superstar I thought you were." Mindy lunged at him, kicking him square in the chest.

Sam fumbled with the gun, cursing at the sharp pain that shot through his chest and got a close shot off at her. She screamed shrilly.

"That hurt!" She shrieked. "Not. Nice."

"Who are you?" Sam managed, pointing the gun at her. "Stat talking, or I swear I'll send you righ-a-"

Sam's breath all came in a sharp intake and he fell to his knees as he felt a white hot burning sensation tear through his back.

Mandy snickered, watching his fall to the floor.

"That, Sammy Winchester, is called teamwork." She tilted her head toward her partner. "Us demons learn from the past."

"Aren't you a bitch?" Sam clutched at his chest, feeling like his insides were imploding. "Christ! I'm gonna kill you, I swear."

His eyes were swimming, and he couldn't quite make out who her plus two was, but it looked suspiciously like Grandma Michaelson.

"That's the problem," Mindy said gleefully, leaning over his body, sidestepping the blood that poured from the wound in his back, "With being the lone ranger, your own army of one…there's no one to watch your back."

"Screw you…" Sam managed, spitting blood from his mouth toward her feet. "Spiritus mundus-"

"Son of a bitch!" Mindy kicked him in the head, hard. "You idiots just don't know when to shut up!"

Mindy kicked him a second time for good measure and he heard a crunching sound, and felt a splitting in his ribcage before he passed out.

_Thank God, _he thought fleetingly, _that hurt like a bitch._

_**. . . **_


	5. Only One You Get

**Only One You Get **

_Note: Once again, everyone, thank you so much for all those super nice reviews, faves, alerts, etc. It's nice to know that everyone is enjoying this so much. Somehow I've managed to bust this out today, and I was worried I wasn't going to manage it but, eh…who needs sleep? I've always thought it was overrated, and I do my public speaking much better when unconscious.

* * *

_

_tremble little lion man _

_you'll never settle any of your scores_

_-mumford and sons; little lion man_

_So help me_, Dean thought_, if you say badge one more time I'm gonna_-

"And Dean!" George huffed as they hiked up the mountain.

George turned around to look at him, and Dean couldn't help but notice how red in the face and out of breath he was. He wasn't exactly an ace on the ins and outs of scouting but he figured that the guy in charge should at least be able to make it up a mountain. But then again…

Dean looked around to see that the other two troop leaders, both guys in their mid to late thirties or so, weren't exactly making the best progress. _Oh, that's it_, he decided_, I'm getting a gym membership_. He needed something to keep him sharp if he wasn't going to morph into one of these guys with their belly pouch and lack of finesse.

He shuddered at the thought. Maybe he'd finally give in and try this yoga business, at least once…it would make Lisa happy…

"With a little hard work, you can earn three or four badges before the weekend is through. Won't that be a notch in your belt!"

_My belt's good, thanks_, Dean thought, smiling at 'ol George. _My belt has all the notches it can take_.

"I bet." Dean said, figuring George was too out of breath and exhausted to pick up on the sarcasm on his tone. "You know what…"

Dean glanced ahead to see a handful of the boys, including Ben running ahead.

"I'm just gonna run ahead and keep pace with the boys." Dean told him, clapping him on the back. "You wanna join me?"

George looked ill at the prospect, as Dean suspected. "I'm just going to hang back here with these slackers. I'm sure you've got it covered."

"Sure I do." Dean grinned, jogging ahead to where the boys were. He held back a snicker, but that was just a little too much.

Well, he certainly couldn't fault Lisa for not wanting to send Ben up here with these accountants and bankers who were un-enthusiastic weekend enthusiasts. And seriously? A badge? Were these guys trying to relive their second childhood or something?

**. . .**

"Lisa Braeden." She answered the phone, setting her cup of yogurt on the countertop and hoping that Mrs. M wasn't calling again about her complaints about that fluff ball, Van Gough, of hers.

That dog (if you could even call the overgrown rat that) was out every morning before the crack of dawn, waking her and Dean up hours before they needed to be.

"I'm looking for Dean Winchester." A decidedly female voice that Lisa was not familiar with, said. "Do I have the right number?"

"Yes." Lisa told her, wondering fleetingly what woman was calling and looking for Dean.

Not that she didn't trust him, because she did-indefinitely.

"But he's not in. Can I take a message?"

"When will he be returning?"

"Not for a few days." Lisa's curiosity got the better of her. "What is this about?"

"Is there another number where I can reach him at?"

"He's camping, no." Lisa said, "Why? What is this about? Who am I speaking to?"

She heard the shuffling of papers and a short moment of silence.

"Natalie Higgins, St. Elizabets's Hospital. Do you know a Sam Collins?"

She'd seen Dean's infinite assortment of fake ID's, she knew how many identities he and his brother had gone through. It was possible, it was definitely possible. No, worse than that, it was probable. It had to be Sam, who else could have her number? Please God, let him be okay.

"Yes. Yes, I do." Lisa answered finally. "He's my boyfriend's brother, is he okay?"

He had to be okay. To begin with, she didn't think Dean could handle losing his brother again, not after just getting him back like he had. Not when they were just starting to reconnect.

"He's stable. That's the only information I can give you over the phone, ma'am, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Lisa rifled through a drawer, searching for a pen. "My boyfriend's brother has to travel a lot for work. I forget exactly which city he was in…"

"Lansing, Michigan." Natalie Higgins told her. "The hospital is north of Transit Rd."

"Right, okay." Lisa scribbled down the information on a pad of paper. "And his room number?"

"Someone at the front desk would be able to direct you."

"Thank you." Lisa hung up the phone, tearing the top sheet off of the pad and tucking it into her wallet, and then stuck it in her purse, followed by her cell phone and cord.

She ran up the stairs, mentally compiling her list of things that needed to be done, and how she would do it.

In her bedroom she started tossing clothes into an overnight bag. She would take a flight out of McGill Airport, they flew direct flights to Lansing-she'd taken one last year for a conference. She'd cancel her classes for the week, or call someone to sub…Torrance owed her a favor…

Family was family; she wasn't going to leave Sam lying in a hospital bed all alone when they didn't even-_wouldn't_-tell her anything.

**. . .**

"Winchester…that's funny." Nick McKay said, shaking Dean's hand. "I went to school with a Winchester."

_Just hysterical_, Dean thought, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at over-enthusiastic Nick McKay and his six dozen scout badges. Was this what these suburban dads did for kicks?

"No way." Dean told him, shooting a fake smile in his direction. "What a coincidence."

Dean glanced away, seeing everyone start to set up their tents and found that he was already missing home, and his clean bed, with his soft pillow, and _really_ missing the woman keeping it warm.

It was just about worth it though, to see Ben looking like he was having the time of his life with his friends. It made him feel really good to do something for Ben like this.

"Stanford." Nick said, "You don't know anyone like that, do you?"

_Oh crap_, Dean thought, _kill me_. What the hell were the chances? Sam should have gone to Harvard, no one ever ran into anyone that went to Harvard.

"My brother, Sam." This living honest thing just blew sometimes; he couldn't believe this. Sam wouldn't even believe this.

"No way!" Nick said, and then laughed. "I was two years ahead of him. He was practically a genius, I swear. I never would have made it through upper level Latin without him."

Of course he did, Dean thought, with that old flicker of pride he hadn't felt in awhile. Damn, he was lucky he could read enough to get by on his dad's standards and say what was necessary. Sam on the other hand was freakin' fluent.

"I always told him he was a lucky bastard." Nick waved distractedly to a kid with pale blonde hair was who waving a stick around wildly, nearly cracking another boy in the head with it.

Well, what was the old adage about apples?

That kid wasn't as old as Ben; he was one of the younger ones. Not older than eight, but not any younger than six.

"Did he marry that cute little blonde thing?" Nick asked, "I told him she was a real keeper. She certainly liked him…always hanging over him like she was."

"Dean!"

Dean glanced over to see Ben calling him, and waving him over. Thank God.

"Oh, that's mine." Dean breathed a sigh of relief. How many days were this trip again, three? God help him.

"Later Dean." Nick said.

Uh huh…not if he could help it.

"Your timing is spectacular." Dean told Ben, crouching down in front of the mess of poles and waterproofed fabric. "What's the trouble?"

Ben held up two pieces with a confused look on his face.

"My mom hates camping." Ben said,

_Dear God, he knew Lisa was the right woman for him._

"And Trevor and Robbie don't know how either."

"My dad puts it up." Robbie said apologetically. "No one else is allowed to touch it."

"We have a camper RV." Trevor explained.

"Well, then…" _Man_, Dean thought, _they were screwed_. It was easier to put together a devil's trap. "I guess we'll have to play it by ear and hope for the best."

**. . . **

It was fuzzy in the hospital, but Sam supposed that was what white walls would do when your head was spinning. He hated white walls. Why were hospital walls always white?

It didn't matter what town, city, state…the walls were always white. Well, aside from the one hospital in Miami that had the blue-green walls that made him feel sea sick.

Everything was sort of vague, and he was pretty sure that he was heavily medicated because he didn't feel much of anything and the people who came in and out of his room were more like ambiguous shapes than people.

"You're going to be just fine, Sam."

"You're doing real well, Sam."

"Just a little something for the pain."

"This will help you sleep."

Lay. It. On.

He was ready to sleep until the next apocalypse bit him on the ass. This was what he deserved, he supposed, for _hoping_ for a distraction.

Never mind what he got for poking around on his own. Seriously, Dean hunted on his own all those years and he didn't think a demon got the jump on him like this. Maybe he was getting cocky, too overconfident…

Why did they know him so well? He didn't want to take the jump and assume that this was a demon he'd met before but…

"Just relax Sam," a soft voice crooned, "Try and get some rest."

**. . .**

_This is a nightmare, Sam decided, it was definitely a nightmare._

"_Sorry Sam," Castiel told him with the same grim, serious look on his face as usual. "You're asleep, but this isn't a nightmare."_

"_Where the hell have you been, Cas? I've been looking for you since I got back up topside. Where did you go?"_

"_I can't tell you that." Castiel said. "I'm not even supposed to be interfering. This was the only way I had to make contact with you however."_

"_By sending some demons to knock the crap out of me?" Sam asked, "Because, you know, up here…we have telephones. And email." _

"_I don't know what email is." Castiel told him. "But we don't have time. I'm not supposed to be here."_

"_That makes two of us." _

"_You've been brought back for a reason, Sam." Castiel's eyes shifted around them, like he was waiting for someone to follow them into the dark abyss that was, apparently, his dreamscape. "You need to let this go. This is not what you are supposed to be doing."_

"_Well, what do you want me to be doing, exactly?" _

"_You've served your time; you've been a warrior for the sake of the greater good. You've sacrificed everything, Sam, including your life. Don't waste this second chance."_

"_I'm not wasting anything." Sam told him, feeling a weight fall down on him with everything that Castiel was dropping on him. "I'm just doing what I can. I'm hunting. It's what I'm supposed to be doing."_

"_You were given a gift." Castiel's voice bordered on a threat. "Don't waste it. Live the life that you were meant to. You have a choice now-your destiny is not to die in the line of fire. Take your will and use it."_

_Sam was still struggling for some sort of reply, some sort of reasoning from the angel when Castiel disappeared._

_What the hell?_

**. . .**


End file.
